Ill Love Part II
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters. They belong to J.K Rowling
Summary: The roles have been reversed.
The things in life that people take for granted are always the things that matter the most. The human race comes up with the greatest incidents of irony…or is it fate just giving people a hard time? Harry had become more philosophical during the years of blindness than he had ever been in his life and as he grew older and was now sixty three years old, more things made bitter sense.
Irony. How ironic is it that he would be taking care of the strongest woman he knew after she devoted sixteen years of her life to caring for him?
Harry inhaled deeply and could almost smell the soft scent of the roses blooming in their garden. It was four o'clock in the afternoon and he was silently pushing Hermione, in a wheelchair, through the gardens; taking the cobblestone pathways that led them through beautiful, wrought-iron arches with interwoven ivory; and by the pond where the frogs sat still on the lily pads. He was taking her to the fountains, which held special meaning to them. A vast area of their garden was filled with elaborate fountains that had statues of people or stone carvings representing memorable occasions in Harry and Hermione's history.
They strolled past the fountain where a statue of Professor Dumbledore stood; his cemented robes were swept around him as he held his wand in the act of conjuring. They carried on past Hermione's own parents and then Harry's. They watched a couple of house elves tend to the flowers around a hippogriff before carrying on to the final destination.
Harry had received word that morning that the final fountain was completed and he should go by to check it and make sure it was perfect before the preservation charm was cast. He waited until Hermione woke up from her deep slumber in the afternoon before taking her with him. He had it done for her as a gift.
The creaking of the wheels stopped as Harry let down the brake on the wheel chair and stepped forward to open the gate. He pushed them forward with a mild grunt and the gates swung open with a grandeur that made Harry swallow hard. His knowing that this fountain was the last one to be made, made him a bit nostalgic and sad. He heard a click and then the wheels start to move as Hermione wheeled herself to be beside him. He looked down at her, his eyes filled with compassion and she smiled weakly. She took his hand in hers and slowly raised it to her lips, leaving the soft imprint of her love on the hand that wipes her tears, caresses her skin and helps her up when she has fallen.
Harry grazed his fingers across her cheek and her eyes closed as she sighed.
The rest of the walk held a deep and profound connection, especially considering that Hermione kept her hand on his the whole time as he held tightly on to the bars, his knuckles turning white. Then at last they were there.
Hermione gasped and broke down, stretching her arms forward, embracing the taller than life-size figures of her and Harry. Her eyes clouded over with happiness as they took in the beautiful and graceful image of them as a young couple dancing at the ministry ball…
Harry sat there moodily, snapping at every woman that came over to ask him if he would dance with her. He considered this the worst birthday of his life. Every year the ministry held a ball in honour of the defeat of the dark Lord Voldemort on Harry's birthday. He turned twenty four that day and with the way his old professors came to check up on him, he felt like he was eleven. He was in no mood for the antics of the hypocritical Ministry of Magic, at least not while Cornelius Fudge was in power. He wanted nothing more than to grab on to the bow tie of his tuxedo, rip it off and strangle Fudge with it.
He glanced around the Warlocks' Society Ballroom and shook his head in wonder. He could not believe that the dress code for this ball was of the late Victorian and Edwardian periods. He was even more amazed that the guests were able to come up with ball gowns and tuxedos that fell within the dress code category. The ladies wore wide robes to accommodate for the extravagant gowns, and upon arrival, left them at the door with the wizard in charge of coat check. The men wore their robes over their tuxedos, but he had seen a few throw them off as the night wore on. He had thought himself lucky that Madam Malkin was able to sew his for him, but then he figured that she had received a lot of business because of this function. He watched, with a frown on his face, all the girls in their colourful frocks swaying this way and moving to the rhythm of the fox trot. He sipped his merlot and winced when he saw Ron step back and accidentally stepped on Padma Patil's moss green gown. Harry closed his eyes against the image of a huge tear and the piece of discarded fabric lying on the floor.
"How dare you Ronald Weasley!" she shrieked, and bolted off the dance floor in tears, leaving her date glowering at Ron.
"Excuse me Harry."
Harry groaned inwardly at the soft voice that interrupted his line of thinking and raised his head to meet the gaze of the one and only Cho Chang. She stared back at him and he felt no inclination to make the first move. When she realized that he was not going to speak, she cleared her throat nervously and smiled flirtatiously.
"Will you dance with me?"
Harry gave her black and white dress a once over before snorting.
"Go away Chang."
Cho took serious offense to this and reached up to adjust her excessive feathery hat with an air of snobbery before leaving him with a cutting remark.
"You are nothing but a sexually frustrated played up hero."
Harry felt a blush rise to his cheeks, but did not look at her until she left.
"Drop dead," he mumbled under his breath.
Imagine his surprise when her shoe heel broke off and she fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Everyone ignored her as she turned bright red.
It was 10 o'clock and Harry had not moved from his perch within the last two hours. Until…
The doors opened and in stepped the most gorgeous sight to grace the company of the guests. His jaw dropped as a beautiful woman stepped in, dressed in long flowing midnight blue gown that extended behind her and swept the ground. She wore a corset like everyone else. Her sleeves were not puffed like all the girls, but had a chiffon pouf with a beaded fringe. There were crystal gems all over her skirting and thinned out further up the dress. There was also an extremely sheer and thin material that layered the dress. She wore a black velvet cloak with a hood and removed it as soon as she came in, smoothing back her hair. Her hair was wrapped in a huge bun that had thin silver vines intertwined in it. She was the epitome of class and grace. She was Hermione.
Harry jumped up as if his seat shocked him and ran over to her to embrace her in a tight hug.
"Harry!" she exclaimed in surprise. "You seem happy."
Harry smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "I am now."
Hermione's eyes sparkled and she pat his cheek gently. "You are such a sweetheart."
Harry chuckled and stopped short when he heard a distinct cough behind him. He looked at Hermione whose smile faded and then turned to face the interruption.
A man, the same height as Harry was glaring at him. He had olive green eyes and long dark brown hair pulled back with a black ribbon into a low pony tail. He too was wearing the Edwardian style tuxedo, like Harry and the other men in the room, only instead of wearing a wizard's robe, he was wearing a cloak.
"Just because you think you're Harry Potter, it doesn't give you the excuse to hold on to my date."
Harry's mouth fell open and he felt, more than saw, Hermione step up beside him and grip his arm.
"That was a bit out of line Jack. Harry is my best friend…"
Jack sneered and took Hermione's hand as he tried to lead her away, but Harry stepped in front of Hermione and held up a hand to stop him.
"First of all, I don't have to think I'm Harry Potter. I AM Harry Potter. Secondly, I would like to greet my friend without you breathing down my neck."
Hermione blushed and glanced away nervously as Jack glared at him before stalking off. Harry watched him go then faced Hermione with a bright grin on his face.
"You are the loveliest woman here tonight."
Hermione smiled, running her hand down the sleeve of his robe, delighting in the soft texture and his firm arm.
"Thank you. But I must say you look very distinguished and handsome yourself. I think I might swoon."
Harry shrugged shyly, holding his head down as he smiled. He did look smart in his tails and black robe with his order of Merlin insignia on his collar along with his Auror rank and Potter crest.
"Enough about me. I missed you," he whispered, leaning down to her ear.
Hermione's breathing stopped short as she became acutely aware of his nearness and pine scent. Her eyes fluttered close and she gave a slight moan. Harry turned his head to look at her, his eyes focused on her closed ones and he swallowed nervously.
"I may be out of line…"
"What?" she said huskily.
"But I am highly attracted to you."
Hermione opened her eyes and raised her arms to embrace him.
"Is that so?"
"Oh my yes," he replied breathlessly. "Everything about you has my senses going haywire. Who you are, your brain and mind, your beauty…everything. He placed his hands on her waist and moved them gently, up and down.
"Dance with me," she breathed.
They spent the rest of the night in each others' arms in the centre of the ballroom. They danced way past the soreness of their feet, past the exhaustion and thirst. They danced as if their lives depended on it, without stopping and without question. As each song ended and the guests clapped, they remained in each others' arms, savouring the new closeness they found and expressing their desires for one another.
"I find myself thinking about you all the time," Harry said softly as they danced the waltz.
Hermione held his gaze. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
Harry licked his lips and grazed his fingers over her back.
"I was scared."
Hermione's sharp intake of breath surprised him and he waited.
"Oh my. Harry…I would never reject you…and never desert you."
She then took his hand in hers and led him off the dance floor. She picked up her cloak at the coat check area before leading him outside.
"Where are we going?" he asked her.
"Just hug me."
Harry did just that and then they disappeared with a pop.
Harry looked around and discovered that they were at Dover and standing on the cliff. The sea was bathed in moonlight as the waves washed in and out.
"Why are we here?" he asked her softly as if to not disturb nature's harmony.
"We are going to talk," Hermione responded.
Harry's breath was taken away as she unwound her hair from its bun and the wind moved through it. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight and he had the sudden impulse to kiss her.
"Would it bother you if I kissed you?" he asked.
She inhaled deeply and took his face between her hands.
"Of course not. I would never pass up on your kisses."
Harry smiled and pressed his lips against hers. They shivered from the touch and the breeze that whipped their clothes about them.
"I am so in love with you," he said against her lips.
"Thank God," she sighed, "I thought I would be the one who loved you and you would never return it."
***
"Do you like it?" Harry whispered.
Hermione continued to stare at the statue. "How could I not?" she choked.
Harry rubbed her shoulders. "That night was made for us."
Hermione broke down into a sob and Harry hugged her from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder and together, they looked up at the memory in stone.
"I told you I love you and I meant it with all my heart and more."
Harry kissed her cheek in response. "You told me you'd never desert me and you haven't."
Hermione kissed his lips. "You have never left me either."
They held each others' gazes for a moment before he asked her, "How are you feeling?"
She nodded tiredly. "I feel better…and stronger."
Harry's hand grazed across her breast and he closed his eyes against the tears.
She held his hand. "Don't cry. I am getting better."
Harry's breath hitched and she led him around to kneel in front of her.
"Harry, the cancer didn't beat me. I am alive and I am not leaving any time soon."
She wiped his tears and leaned forward to kiss him.
"I love you Harry."
Harry nodded and ran his fingers through her hair.
"I love you too."
***
When they got home, they were pleasantly surprised to see Bridget and her husband, Christopher along with their four children. Bridget was cooking while the grandchildren played a game of attack where they attacked their defenseless father.
"Mum!" exclaimed their thirty year old daughter.
Hermione laughed and with Harry's help, got out of the wheel chair and walked over to her only child.
"Hello my darling," she said. "My baby is home."
Bridget leaned back and ran her fingers through her mother's brown hair streaked with grey hair.
"It's growing back," she said. "I like it short."
"Me too," Harry piped up, wrapping his arms around his wife's waist.
The children ran in along with their father and hugs and kisses went around.
Harry leaned against the wall as he watched his wife interact with their grandchildren…their grandchildren.
He almost cried in relief that she was making a full recovery from the breast cancer. It had been three stressful years. Many tears had been shed, hope had been lost over and over again, yet miracle above miracles…she was standing in their home and smiling.
Life had not been easy; first his blindness, then her illness. But one thing was for sure: they had each other and love kept them strong.
Once again, it struck him how truly blessed they were to be alive and to be able to continue growing old together.
"Grandpa!"
Harry looked behind him and saw his six year old granddaughter, Emily, standing on the arm of the couch.
"Catch me!" she squealed.
She jumped and Harry opened his arms as she went sailing towards him. His arms closed around her and she laughed in delight.
"I caught you," he said with a smile.
*The end*
***